A Thought Made Flesh
by failedreality
Summary: The future is corrupt and sinister. Two deadly living ‘weapons’ have been created but when the weapons begin to think for themselves and notice they are in control. The future and past will never be the same...


_Alright this is my first fan fic and I hope you all like it (also if you could rate that would motivate me to continue with it). This is the tale of the future after all of the Z fighters are dead and their ancestors live on (I might have the Z fighters later in the series though). The story takes place about 300-1000 years after the last ep of Z and deals with the corruption that the earth has fallen under andfollows the life ofCain (one of the weopons)Oh also a small warning: this fic is not recommended for those that don't like swearing, fighting, underground stuff, ect. Also I do not own any of the DBZ characters but I do own the characters that do not appear in the series and I also own this fan fic! Once again I hope you all like it - Peace!_

**A Thought Made Flesh  
Chapter I - Hunted**

The world remained dark as it always seemed now as liquid drizzled down upon the now derelict world with thick drops of harsh cold water. Old disgusting waste littered the sides of the alley while faded graffiti marked the brick. Steam rose from the sewers as a large black rat climbed through the rusted bars, its ebony coat soaked wet. Large ramshackle buildings stood as barriers between a world that once was and a world that is. Suddenly heavy black leather boots coated in dull but thick mud slammed down into a dark shallow pool of cold water as the water sprayed out onto the wet, cracked, and dark cement of the derelict alley. Shadows of two figures raced upon one of the alley's grungy walls while their mortal masters raced through the mazes of side streets. Heavy breathing echoed in their ears along with their heart's pulse. Suddenly one faulty step sent one of the runners kissing pavement. Quickly the other spun around and darted back to assist the fallen one who was now scrambling to his feet. The second hung one of the first's arms around his neck as he helped him up; then both darted away and darted behind a large grimy trash bin.

The first man collapsed against the wall and trash as he breathed heavily in both fear and exhaustion. His hand covered his knee where cloth was torn and a deep and gritty black gash that was pouring blood. His face was dripping of both warm sweat and cool rain and his hair was short as was a deep mud color; eyes were as black as coals. A long dark scar went from ear, over his nose and ended at his other ear and a silver ring was hooked through his lip. Massive amounts of ink could be found along his arms as well as 'tracks' from recent deeds. This man was clothed in a deep gray t-shirt that was now stained with mud, oil, and blood; atop of this he had a thick black leather coat that was worn and torn to the limit. His pants were black but stained and wet, and his shoes were worn but heavy black boots that were caked in mud. His dark eyes traveled to his companion and watched him carefully while waiting for a sign. The second man was crouched down and peering over the mounds of trash in search of the 'hunter'. He too had the sweat and rain mixture pouring off his face while his heart raced and eyes searched franticly for the enemy. Within a few mins he decided that it was clear so he turned around and slid down while his back was pressed against the foul bin. Once his bottom hit pavement he relaxed, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This man was dressed in a tattered deep gray long sleeved shirt with a black vest over top of it. His pants were torn up blue jeans and he also wore heavy black boots with mud caked on them. His hair was a deep lilac and fell to the sides almost as a mushroom cut but instead fell to his jaw bone. He had brilliant blue eyes that shimmered even in the darkness of the night. He too had bizarre qualities on his face but he had one scar that slid down from the side of his mouth and down his neck and disappeared under his shirt along with many scars upon his muscular back and chest. Now this man did not have tracks or ink like his companion, and in these times this was quite rare. Both young men though had large cuts across their bodies with dark bruises and tattered clothing.

Suddenly the second man's hands went into his pockets and he pulled out a box of cigarettes and a lighter. He pulled out the thin white stick and stuck it in his mouth while he fumbled with the lighter. Within seconds though it lit and he brought it to his mouth with trembling hands that both held the lighter and shielded it from the rain. Quickly he took a drag as the end of the stick burned bright for an instant then he expelled the smoke. Then the man offered one to his companion. He took it, stuck it in his mouth, than lit it while he too took a drag. Yet the first man had been hoping it would have been something a little stronger than just a cig…  
**"Do you think we lost them?"** said the first man finally with a deep and trembling voice as smoke expelled from his mouth.  
**"No… they let us go,"** replied the second with a voice almost identical to his great ancestor with the lilac colored hair as he looked out into the black alley with the cig still protruding from his lips, **"They love a good hunt…"** After that the two young men remained silent for a few moments before one of them spoke again.  
**"Those wicked monsters! Their demons sent from hell!"** snarled the first as his voice became fierce and his hand tightened on his knee while warm blood gushed out and dribbled on the cement.  
**"Gotro… they are the same as us, just… pure bloods…"** his rough voice trailed off then he quickly took another drag from the stick then pulled it away from his mouth. His eyes closed and he leaned his head against the trash bin while cool rain landed upon his face.  
**"The same as us! To hell they are! Our ancestors were pure bloods they are nothing like our ancestors…"** suddenly Gotro looked up at his companion as his eyes quivered slightly as he knew he slipped up with his words, **"Tranzk I'm sorr-"** Suddenly the second man (Tranzk) lifted up his hand to symbolize Gotro to stop.  
**"My brother is not one of them…"** Tranzk's voice was solemn as he spoke of his brother. The same blood that pulsed through his veins was the same as the Lord of the Empire's, Amp. Both remained silent for what almost seemed and eternity while the rain drizzled down upon the dreary world. Puffs of steam escaped a drain not more than three feet away in the center of the alley while rain pounded the many overflowing trash bins. Rain was the only natural pleasure that still existed in these times of war.

Suddenly in the calming racket the faint sound of feet landing on the cement echoed through the alley. Tranzk and Gotro tensed and held their breath as they heard the sound while their hearts began to race once more. Gotro quickly gulped as he again gripped his bleeding knee making even more blood pour out… unfortunately the river of blood was draining into the rusted drain that was not more than three feet away and that drain was in the center of the alley. The sound of footsteps echoed through the cool air and stopped as the light sound of asmirk being expressed through one's vocals. Both men remained as quiet as those they believed they would soon join, the dead. The cig that Tranzk held in his hand was burning low and suddenly Tranzk felt the small flame burn his skin. He winced at the pain but remained silent and held onto the cig even though the faint sound of sizzling flesh could be heard along with the hissing sewers. They knew that there was something sinister here in the alley with them who had blood upon its hands and was ready to taste new blood.

Then through the darkness a forbidding melodious voice reached the men's ears, **"Come out, come out where ever you are…,"** It was calm, youthful and female as though she thought this was a mere game. Now the voice was beautiful as the dangerous venom that dripped from each word but this only added to the mystique of the voice. The only thing that stole away from the voice was the deep dark hollowness that tore away at the soul and made the two young men recoil in fear; it almost made her seem dead and lost, **"Now don't make me come looking for you. It'll only make me angry … I don't think you'll want to 'play' when I am angry"**


End file.
